he used me like a book
he saw the cover
wrapped in plastic, untouched by anyone before
he thought that maybe he'd find something special in the words that everyone else ignored

he read the book, slowly at first, a few pages a night
he got distracted, and he left a cold bookmark in it for a year, maybe more
and then when life got dull he reopened it, and he read faster this time
he'd forgotten what he was missing

he groped at the pages hungrily
and he slept with the book under his pillow
thinking of phrases and scenes as he proceeded with his other life

he kept the book hidden from his friends
he was embarrassed to be reading, you see
he read and it seemed like the story was never meant to end

and then one day, about a chapter before the happy ending
he saw a shiny, new book on a shelf
wrapped in plastic, untouched by anyone before

and he tossed me aside like a book
he left it with the spine up on his hard wood floor
and he forgot about the book
but i was dying to be read
only i, it seemed, wanted to reach that happy ending